


Thank you, Ma'am

by ysse_writes



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ysse_writes/pseuds/ysse_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trickyfish Day + WIP Amnesty Day + failed fic_requests story for raynedanser</p><p>The mind boogles at the ficlets I'm digging up that I've completely forgotten about. This "putting everything I can find in one place" is kinda humbling. Also kind of fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank you, Ma'am

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know them, don't own them, all lies.

Lance hears laughter the moment he answers the phone -- high, hysterical, _maniacal_ laughter and instantly misses those bygone days where he could simply slam the phone receiver down and inflict a little damage of his own on Chris' eardrums.

"Dude. _Dude._ " Chris' vocabulary momentarily seemed to be limited to that single word, choking it out in between unfettered guffaws. It was a pity, thought Lance, that it wouldn't last long. Chris' facility for words rivaled that of the most scurrilous gossip columnist. Which, at that moment, Lance did not consider to be one of Chris' more endearing traits.

Lance glared at his celphone, at the alphanumeric identity displayed across its LCD screen. How in the world, he wondered, had Chris gotten to JC and convinced him to let Chris use his phone? To call _long-distance_ , no less? The only reason Lance had answered in the first place was because he thought it was JC calling and had been lulled into a false sense of safety. _JC!!!_ he'd thought, grabbing his phone, ready to be comforted. JC, he thought, would understand. He'd make appropriate soothing noises about how Perez was a liar and an ass and how, really it could have happened to _anyone._ He would have listened to Lance's side of the story without interrupting, believed him completely, and been upset and outraged on his behalf. He would have understood Lance's embarrassment and pain. _There would have been no laughing._

Because, Lance knew, he would _never_ live this one down. _Ever._ It was true that he'd done stupid things before, monumentally stupid things, but he'd always been confident that sooner or later Chris would do something even more stupid and he'd be off the hook. This was the Circle of Life, The Way It Is and practically a Universal Law. But this...

Lance rubbed at the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension headache.

Tonight there was a great disturbance in the Force.

If God was kind, he thought, Justin would suddenly announce that he and Cam had eloped and gotten married in Hong Kong. Surely that news would be big enough that the media would forget about him. Not to mention that it would count as a greater idiocy in Chris' eyes.

He sighed and placed the phone back to his ear. Nothing to be done about it, he thought, waiting patiently till Chris' laughter tempered off into a disharmonious wheezing. Serves JC right for lending Chris his phone, Lance thought, spitefully, counting off as the seconds turned into minutes. Just wait till he sees his phone bill.

"Are you done?" he asked, as icily as he could, once Chris' wheezing became less pronounced.

Chris continued to struggle to catch his breath, his efforts impeded by the errant chuckle that kept bubbling up. "I may be dying, Bass," he wheezed, "but I'll die happy." He chuckled again. "And so, I hear, will you."

"What?" growled Lance.

"I hear you're in love, Bass. True Love, in fact. You know, Tanith Lee says we only fall in love with ourselves -- or our vision of ourselves -- but this is way too perverted, even for you. I know you like that Knight Errant and Camelot shit, but dude—"

"I was not smitten," Lance corrected, frostily, "I was _surprised_. The shopkeeper was so excited he almost poked me – _stop laughing, dammit_ \-- with that monstrosity and I stepped back into some candles. And I was wearing this fuzzy coat that apparently wasn’t made of flame-retardant material. I can't help it if that so-called journalist has an inaccurate -- if pretentious -- vocabulary. Maybe he has aphasia.”

“Oooh, _aphasia,_ ” cooed Chris. “Sounds kinky.”

“Please, don’t try to convince me that somebody as mentally disturbed as you are doesn’t know what aphasia is.”

“Hey,” Chris laughed. “Don’t get snotty with me, boy. Your precious Doctor House, MD. has nothing on Quincy, Trapper John and the good old boys of St. Elegius. I liked it better when you were into that spy show with the hot chicks. Though, that Cuddy woman has possibilities. I wouldn’t mind playing doctor—”

“ _Chris,_ " Lance interrupted, suddenly out of patience. “Can you just get on with the mocking? I have a schedule to keep here. I have mob hits to contract, untraceable uzis to purchase, a reputation to try and salvage.”

“Okay, okay, dude, sorry.” Chris took a deep breath. “But seriously, you can’t lose your sense of humor over this. And you can’t blame me for—”

“Oh, but I do,” Lance said, softly. “And I have every intention of making you pay.” Lance’s voice, from harsh and angry, suddenly became silky, dark and dangerous. Chocolate liquer, thought Chris, out of the blue.

“Me?” Chris demanded, suddenly nervous. “What? How is any of this _my_ fault?”

“What do you think I was doing in that shop in the first place?” Lance asked.

“Browsing?” Chris asked, forcefully cheery.

“That’s right. But why?”

“Justin was driving you insane and you knew he wouldn’t follow you into a sex shop?”

“Guess again,” Lance said. “Here, I’ll give you a hint. What’s next Thursday?”

“February 2nd?”

“What else?” Lance asked, with exaggerated patience.

There was a long silence on the other side of the line. “Oh, God.” Chris finally squeaked out, in a small voice.

“That’s right, baby. Your anniversary present just made the headlines.” Lance savored the momentary triumph of Chris’ stunned guilt-stricken silence. But he should have known better than to expect it to last. Chris was only quiet for a couple of seconds before he started laughing again.

“Dude,” Chris said again. “ _Dude._ "

“I am _so_ going to kill you,” Lance growled. “No, first I’ll break up with you, then I’ll kill you. No, first I’ll castrate you, then I’ll break up—”

“No, Lance, honey, no,” said Chris. “That’s not why I’m laughing. Really.” He took a couple of deep breaths. “Please, um, I—”

“I’m hanging up on you now,” said Lance, coldly.

“No, wait. It’s just… Look, I’m sending you a digital photo, okay? You’ll understand when you see it. Love you, man.” And he hung up.

Lance sighed, wondering for the zillionth time why he was cursed to be in love with Chris Kirkpatrick, of all the people in the world.

His celphone dinged, announcing the arrival of the digital photo Chris had sent. Lance started laughing the moment he saw it. It was the biggest dildo he’d ever seen, still in its understatedly tacky gift box. Underneath the clear plastic display window, in bold letters, were the words _All others must kneel and bow down before_ King Christopher _’s Might and Prowess!_

 _Dude,_ the accompanying text message read, _this was supposed to be your surprise Valentine present!_

 

 

 

(c)  _JCSA_   
February 03, 2006, 17:29

 

 _  
_


End file.
